


Trap Door in the Floor

by brodiew



Category: Cloak & Dagger (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Tandy at her breaking point.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 04:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15405462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodiew/pseuds/brodiew
Summary: After learning of her father's abuse of her mother Tandy is at her breaking point.





	Trap Door in the Floor

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for episode 8, 'Ghost Stories'
> 
> AU as this is now how Tandy chose to act after the revelation about her father. 
> 
> Warning: Suicidal thoughts. 
> 
> I have to admit I'm struggling with the show's pacing and random plot elements. the worst being the revelation of Tandy's abusive father. Really? This is if my, kind of, emotional the last episode and the show's frustrations as a while. I liked the acting and look of the show, even the orginal set up, but I had hoped the origin storty would not take up the whole season. Tandy and Tye have been apart more than they have been together. Get on with it, already! Sorry. Rant over.

Tandy Bowen stared at the white hot dagger in her hand. Her mind raced. Her knees buckled. She was ready to die for real this time. She would not be stopped. The dagger, the previous symbol of her hope, her life line, only days ago, would now be instrument of her death. All the progress she had made, all the clawing she had done to get to surface, all the trust she had placed in her memory of her father, was gone. Cut off at the knees. Again. What was there left to live for? It all been about her father's good name. But, he was not good. He was mean and brutal and selfish. So many memories flooded her desperate consciousness. Her mind’s eye remembered the day he died. Mom wasn't coming to pick her up from ballet. It was daddy. She had beamed at the prospect. She was so happy that he was coming. She waited eagerly. He did not come. All the other girls had been picked up or left with parents who stayed for practice. Where was he? The busy street outside the studio deserted person by person. The sun fell and it started to rain. She had no umbrella. Where was he? Mom said he was coming. When he finally arrived, she was happy again, so glad to see her daddy. But, now, wanting to die, Tandy wondered how much grief her mother had taken for asking him to pick her up. How hard had he ripped her apart for interfering with his schedule? She is speculating, wanting to pile on more hate that had suddenly gripped her. She never saw the abuse, but the gift has never lied before. He never had the opportunity to beat her again. For that, Tandy was thankful. All of this raced through her head as she stood the lakeside, tears welling in her eyes, but for an altogether different reason than her mother suspected. She squelched the dagger so her mother would not see, but Ty saw. Ty worried. He was a worrier, but he would not have to worry about her for long. This time, the gift would not prevail. 

Damn her father. Damn him for showing her such love while treating his mother like a slave. 

She ran.

Ran from the now fake lakeside vigil. 

Ran from a mother she just could not face.

Ran from Tyrone, the one person who might understand. 

Her plans to end herself bled away as she ran. How could she? Knowing what her mother has suffered, two three times over. How could she only think of herself? Revenge, though still a palpable desire, was no longer what drove her. She doesn’t know what it is anymore, but it is not selfish. It can’t be. If she continued to think only about herself, she would end up dead, either by her own hand or by that of her enemy, Roxxon. 

She stopped running, sweat on her brow and hairline, sucking wind. She sat down on a bench to catch her breath. Ty was there, not having chased her on foot, but materializing out of his oily black shadow.

“Are you okay?” he asked, knowing the question is rhetorical, but asking anyway. 

“What…do you…think?” she stammered. 

“I think you’re fragile,” he said, quietly. “More fragile than ever. Fragile enough to need some to be with you for a while.” 

She looked at him, wanting to shrug him off, do this on her own; figure out how to bring down Roxxon and build up her mother. How to keep the devil of suicide at bay, if not destroy it once and for all. But, she knew she cannot do it on her own. She needs someone to understand, someone to temper her irrationality. Someone to know. Someone to know her. She wishes she had his hoody. Her safest place. The smell of him. The smell of life. She realizes he did not give her life, but this boy, that day, saved her life. In her heart, buried under so much rock of pain and guilt and sadness and desperation, she realizes he still is. Saving her. 

“You’re right, Ty,” she breathed. She leaned over and placed her head on his shoulder. She could feel the bristling energy in her hair and scalp, but she was not close enough to him to initiate the reaction. “Don’t leave me.” 

He didn’t move or speak. He was rock steady. He was what she needed. Not to make her whole. Not to complete her. 

To be her anchor. 

To be her support. 

To be her partner.

**Author's Note:**

> If you feel the notion, drop a a kudo or a comment. trust me they are helpful. :-)


End file.
